Clean Getaway
by Madame Estrella
Summary: TDK One-Shot set around the Joker's introduction to the crime bosses. Joker/Harley Quinn


**Disclaimer: Characters are property of D.C. Comics; I receive no financial gain from writing this.**

A/N: Harley Quinn is based on her portrayal in Brian Azzarello's "The Joker."

**Clean Getaway**

"Joker's gotta be nuts to think he can waltz in an' out of that meeting without catching a bullet." Marty said taking a draw from his cigarette. The thirty-five year old shifted in his seat as he glanced about the table at the other two men with him.

"Besides, remember what happened to those suckers who went with him in his last excursion? Doesn't take a brain surgeon to know that could happen to any one of us; anybody goes in that room with the Joker is no better than a human shield." He said as he ashed his cigarette.

The others nodded in agreement drinking their beer as sweaty half-naked bodies undulated about them. Marty paid particular notice to the body at the stage front.

Her creamy skin glistened beneath the stage lights as she leaned back on her haunches, legs spread wide in her red and black vinyl pants. She rolled her head on her shoulders and pulled the front of her thin jacket apart, exposing white blossoms centered with rose nipples. She leaned back on one hand gloved in black as the other in red slid over her breast bone and down her skin to her inner thigh.

She rolled over on hands and knees and swayed her slender hips as she approached and grasped the brass pole and lifted herself upon it. Wrapping a leg around it she arched her back as she leaned back to face the audience upside down as her blonde hair bobbed back in pigtails She smiled wide and Marty could swear it was at him.

But that's what most men in the Iceberg Lounge thought as Harley Quinn danced for them.

After her set, a redressed Harley approached the trio and slid a leg over one of Marty's knees, moving her body against him.

"Meeting's at two-thirty tomorrow." She said quietly as she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck as her hips moved back and forth along his thigh. He kept his hands to himself as were the rules of the establishment and nodded.

"Yeah I was thinkin', Harley, you know the lay of the land here better than us. Do ya wanna escort the Boss?" He flashed a grin and she looked at him skeptically.

"Why are ya thinking that, Marty?" She asked suspiciously.

"Well, let's say that me and ten thousand of my little friends think it'll be a good idea." He smiled and she raised her eyebrows.

"Ten thousand," she said in a hushed voice, "who _is_ this guy?"

"A guy who just wants in the game, in a big way," he shrugged. "Just a thought, Harley, wouldn't break my heart if you passed."

She looked down at his chest as she moved against him for a few long moments before meeting his eyes again.

"Deal," she replied.

* * *

Marty knew the tough sell would be the Joker, who stared back at him with folded arms in the dingy kitchen of Frank's ramshackle apartment in the Narrows. Marty wasn't about to back down no matter how hard the clown stared at him. There was no way in Hell he was going with the Joker this time. The odds were well stacked against them as they'd be facing all the mob bosses in Gotham.

Joker either had balls like boulders or he had a death wish and Marty wasn't going to die for this freak.

Besides, Joker would probably screw them anyway.

After what happened to the guys in the bank job, the Joker could go it alone. Marty just had to convince him that he wasn't going it alone. He just wished he could see the look on the clown's face when he realized he was going with a stripper.

"Your inside guy know what he's doing?" Joker asked slowly.

"Well, that's where I got all my information so I guess so." Marty replied with more sarcasm than he'd intended. Frank and Lou both took a step away from him.

Joker slowly rubbed the palms of his gloved hands together as he kept his eyes locked with Marty's. It was damned unsettling.

"Harley, you say." Joker replied with a nod. "Well, you boys are still going but I'll take up your _inside guy_."

* * *

Harley stared at her pale reflection in the mirror at the club. She'd just done a line of coke to take the edge off her nerves. She ran her brush through her hair as she lamented her most recent mistake.

Her life had already been a long line of bad decisions which had led her to this place where mob guys passed her around like a party favor. The money meant an opportunity to leave this club, maybe even Gotham. To some people it didn't mean a lot and they'd probably laugh at her and say it would all go up her nose. But Harley was tired of this life, with these people.

Maybe she could go to Metropolis and live with her cousin. Go back to school. Meet a nice guy and pop out a couple of kids.

There weren't any nice guys in Gotham.

A beep from her cell phone jarred her from her thoughts. She picked up the device and read Marty's message with heavy-lidded eyes.

'_You're on sweat cakes.'_

She frowned and shook her head. 'Sweat cakes?' Another fine example of what Gotham had to offer, idiot.

She waltzed over to the fire exit by the dressing room. Normally it would be hooked up to an alarm, but the girls used it to come and go and take guys into the alley and give them further 'entertainment.'

A heavy knock came and Harley opened the door which didn't open from the outside. She stepped aside and allowed the man to pass and pulled the door closed behind him before noticing his long, purple coat.

Her body stiffened as her eyes trailed up his back and settled on the shoulder-length, wavy green hair. A moment later the man turned and she saw his face.

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his black eyes and the horrible red grin. He frowned and took a step toward her.

"Harley?" He asked and cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes at her. She took in a sharp breath and managed to force a smile.

"Yeah, that's me, Harley Quinn." She said as the Joker scrutinized her.

Then he laughed, slapping his thigh and gritting his yellowed teeth while he shook his head. She kept her frozen smile and moved around the laughing man to her table and peered at his reflection in the mirror.

He was pissed. She was too. She reached into her handbag and withdrew her small .22 caliber pistol, setting it on the table.

"They are still setting up." She said staring at her handgun and trying to resist the urge to look at him. She didn't want to because she knew she would stare and people who had obvious disfigurements did _not_ like to be stared at.

"They are?" He replied and she heard him tap his foot on the concrete floor.

"Yeah, these things never get started on time." She said turning toward him and forcing herself to look at him. "Maroni in particular is a Prima Donna, likes to be 'fashionably late.'"

Joker nodded and rocked back and forth on his heels, looking around the small space and tilting his head to peer through the cracked door to the hallway. She was nervous, but he was impatient, annoyed and pissed off. Not that she could blame him. He was about to be escorted into a meeting of the minds of the crime bosses of Gotham by a stripper who was high on coke.

Unless he had some amazing stuff, they were both going to die.

"I'm going to check on things." She said breaking the awkward silence and headed out the door.

She purposefully walked down the hallway and turned the two lefts and right to where the Chinese wanded the mob bosses and their entourages after passing through a metal detector as they headed into the kitchen of the Iceberg Lounge. She saw Maroni heading down the adjacent hall from the service entrance and knew things were about to get started.

She returned to find the Joker holding her wallet in his hand. He glanced at her shocked expression and snorted.

"Your _real_ name is Harley Quinn?" He said and burst into a fit of giggles.

Her mouth moved wordlessly and then she stepped forward and snatched her wallet away from him and shoved it back into her handbag. She pulled at her long hair as she ran her fingers through it. She heard the tinkle of one of the bells from her hood which hung from the edge of the mirror as the Joker poked at it with a gloved finger as he fought to contain his laughter.

She picked up her gun and turned back to find herself staring at his chest as he had stepped closer to her. She leaned back and bumped the table and looked up at his face.

"They're about to get things started." She said looking him in the eyes. They were hazel.

His face changed and she no longer saw a trace of mirth in his expression, just cold seriousness. He nodded and gestured with his right hand for her to lead the way.

Joker quietly followed her through the halls and to the swinging kitchen doors which were now closed. In their silence he stood close to the doors and his face set in concentration as he carefully listened to what the voices within said.

She heard Maroni's voice_. "Some two-bit whack-job. Wears a cheap purple suit and make-up. He's not the problem. He's a nobody."_

She whipped her head to look at the Joker who now stood at his full height and avoided the window as he glared at the door as if he could see through the metal. She saw him clench his jaw as she felt a twinge catch in her chest.

After listening for a few more minutes he hunched his shoulders and began to laugh, a terrible mocking forced laugh. He shoved the door wide as he passed through it.

All Harley could do was wait. She carefully peered through the window in time to see the Joker grab a man by the head and slam it onto the table.

'Was that a Pencil?' Her mouth dropped open and she quickly ducked below the window and checked her gun again and switched the safety off.

She'd never fired it at another person, but she had the feeling she would have to today. She listened to the exchange in the kitchen and started when Joker kicked the door open beside her.

Her eyes went wide when she saw the half-dozen grenades on the inside of his purple overcoat as he closed the coat and then shoved her. She rushed before him and then stopped short at the footfalls coming from the end of the hall in front of them.

She looked toward the sides and saw the door marked 'Maintenance' on their left and grabbed Joker's arm and shoved the door open and then quickly closed it behind them and locked it.

She grabbed his arm again and made her way in the darkness to the back of the room to another door which she opened. She stepped inside and he slid past her as she closed the door and flipped on the light switch to reveal a flight of stairs and a narrow hallway bathed in pale yellow.

They descended the stairs and Harley crouched to open a small door which led to the crawlspace beneath the stage. They made their way on hands and knees to a square of plywood which slid aside and revealed the curtain which ringed the base of the stage.

She lifted the bottom of the curtain and motioned for him to look and pointed to the exit door on the right.

"You can get out that way." She said breathing a sigh of relief that there was no one in the room.

He quickly exited the crawlspace and headed toward the door and then outside never once looking back. Harley leaned against the thin wall and dropped the curtain and closed her eyes.

* * *

Marty's mouth dropped open in disbelief inside his clown mask as he spied the Joker walking toward the car in the rearview window. The other two other men donned in clown masks rushed toward the car, keeping their guns trained on the building.

Joker tore the rear passenger door of the car open and fell heavily into the seat, glaring at Marty. Marty gunned the engine before Frank had completely closed his door and they sped off down the street.

"It would seem that you failed to mention something important in regard to Harley." Joker snarled at Marty and then shifted to stare out his window.

* * *

Marty tossed his cards on the table and grunted with disgust as Lou chuckled and swept the money from the middle of the table toward himself and began straightening the bills.

The three men looked up as the kitchen door flew open and Harley Quinn stormed in wearing a black leather jacket and a furious expression, her blue eyes like ice.

"What the hell was that?" She snapped at Marty. "You asked me to introduce a new guy to _my_ boss and he's the Goddamn Joker! Were you _trying_ to get me killed?"

"What did you expect, Harley? This is Gotham, baby." Marty chuckled.

"Where's my money then?" Harley demanded; a hand planted firmly on her hip while her lips trembled with rage.

"Money? Harley, there aint no money." Marty laughed and the others joined him. Harley pressed her lips into a firm line and scowled at them. Still laughing, Marty pulled a twenty out of his wallet and slapped it onto the table.

"Here ya go, sweetheart! An' there's more where that come from if you wanna do some of your 'tricks' for me an the boys." He leered at her.

Harley set her jaw looking between the laughing men and the twenty dollar bill. From her jacket pocket she pulled her .22 and fired it, leaving Marty smiling back at her with a bullet hole in his forehead. She then turned on her heel, head held high, and stalked out the door slamming it hard behind her.

* * *

Tears stung Harley's eyes and she hastily wiped them from her cheeks as she fumbled with her keys. She unlocked her door and closed it behind her then leaned against it as a heavy sob tore from her chest.

She slid down her door and covered her face with her hands and cried harder than she had in years. Her life was already a bad joke and it had somehow gotten even worse.

She heard their laughter; Marty's, the mob boss's, the Joker's. She covered her ears and pulled her hair in anguish.

They played with her and passed her around like a toy. Their little Harley Quinn doll complete with all her accessories. Give her some blow and a few dollars here and there so she can eat and she'll always come back for more.

She threw her keys and they crashed in a jingle as they hit the wall. She stood and walked to her bed a few feet away in her tiny studio apartment, stripping off her coat and carelessly discarding it.

She dropped onto the bed and wiped her eyes and glanced at the small clock radio.

In two hours she had to work. Dance for the pigs of Gotham who disguised themselves as men.

She narrowed her eyes and then crawled across the bed to the night table and clicked on the light. In front of her clock was a red rose laid across an envelope. She snatched up the white letter-size envelope and opened it to reveal a slip of paper and ten thousand dollars. She removed the paper and unfolded it to read the note.

'_See You Around. –J'_

She smiled, perplexed and set the envelope down and picked up the rose. She held the soft petals against her nose as she inhaled its sweet aroma.

There weren't any nice guys in Gotham.


End file.
